The White Ship Sails
by MyLadyLorna
Summary: A short story expressing Frodo's grief upon departing Middle Earth for Valinor and leaving his companions behind. Can he find comfort knowing that he and all he once knew and held dear are now parted forever?
1. Sleep Without Dreams

**The White Ship Sails**

Rating: K+ for angst and grief.

I wrote this series about 9 years ago, when _The Lord of the Rings_ consumed my life. But with _The Hobbit_ now on the horizon, I thought it would be nice to share my old stories again. My writing style has changed dramatically since then, but I won't change a word. I'd hate to lose the depth of compassion I felt when I wrote of my beloved hobbits all those years ago. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the series as much as I enjoyed once writing it.

_Chapter One - Sleep Without Dreams_

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><p>Tears silently dropped from Frodo's eyes like glistening jewels, flowing in anguished streaks down his delicate features. It was done. He had taken the final step. Middle Earth lay behind Valinor ahead. He had refused to allow even one tear to be seen by his companions, but now, with the gently lapping shore fading into the distance, tears flowed freely.<p>

He would finally be rid of the Ring's memories and malice, but at what a price. His Sam was back on that fading shoreline. He had left his dearest friend, his soul, his better self. Even now the memory of Sam's heartbroken, yet understanding tears, caused Frodo's heart to tremble within his being, shaking him to the very essence of his soul.

The land was gone; swiftly, completely, like a pinpoint of light vanishing over a distant hilltop. Frodo gripped the ship's silver railing desperately, his deprived eyes searching the far distant horizon for a glimpse of the place he had called home, claimed as his birthright. Nothing. Frodo's head bowed in defeat and tears flowed anew.

His grief was so utterly self-consuming, he missed the soft sound of elven feet, and he did not fully comprehend another presence until a loving hand rested upon his quaking shoulder. The touch gently pulled him away from the railing and the barren sight, toward tender eyes that shone with wisdom of the ages.

Lady Galadriel knelt, eye to eye with Frodo, grasping his icy hands in her own. "Frodo," her voice held a lilting quality, "this is only a parting, not an ending. Sam has been granted Grace, just as you." His head turned from her piercing gaze. One hand lifted his chin with only the barest touch of a fingertip, eyes seeking his with all the affection of one who had known the burden of carrying a Ring of power.

"You shall see Samwise again. Not today, nor tomorrow, but he will come. When you need each other the most, when memories begin to overwhelm, when the distance and separation become unbearable, he will come." Fresh tears joined the twin tracks across his cheeks, bringing a bare hint of the joy to come yet nearly overwhelmed by the utter sorrow of the moment.

Galadriel's eyes filled with compassion, and reaching out, she drew the Hobbit into a warm embrace, one arm supporting his back, the other lightly smoothing the disarray of dark curls which blended with her own golden locks.

Frodo clung desperately to the one comfort afforded him at this moment. Of all the beings he had encountered in his life's journey, Galadriel was the only one who truly understood the precious connection he and Sam shared together. Even now, in the midst of her endless joy, she paused to give what ease she could to a Hobbit who had lost everything, yet would gain what he needed most; peace. Frodo's gratefulness was without measure; she understood.

When the sobs finally passed into exhausted silence, Galadriel carefully stood to her feet, sweeping Frodo into her very capable arms. On swift feet, she bore the exhausted Hobbit past a concerned Gandalf to a bedchamber below, laying him gently upon the silken coverlet. Frodo's weary eyes fluttered open, and he grasped at the Lady's sleeve as she made to pass through the door.

"Will I ever find peace?" His whisper was low, filled with apprehension mingled with doubt. "Yes, Frodo Baggins, you will find peace without end." A trembling sigh escaped his lips at the reassuring response, and he leaned tiredly against a supporting pillow. Her fingers lightly swept errant curls from his forehead, easing his eyelids gently shut with a brush of her fingertips, then Galadriel swept silently away, leaving Frodo to fall into a deep and contented sleep without dreams.


	2. A Weary Spirit

**The White Ship Sails**

Rating: K+ for angst and grief.

I wrote this series about 9 years ago, when _The Lord of the Rings_ consumed my life. But with _The Hobbit_ now on the horizon, I thought it would be nice to share my old stories again. My writing style has changed dramatically since then, but I won't change a word. I'd hate to lose the depth of compassion I felt when I wrote of my beloved hobbits all those years ago. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the series as much as I enjoyed once writing it.

_Chapter Two - A Weary Spirit_

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><p>His first awareness was of a soft pillow beneath his head. Eyes slowly slid open to view a latticework of amazing beauty welded to the ceiling of the White Ship; shapes of elven warriors, graceful maidens, peaceful times and eras of war floated above him.<p>

Memories flooded and with them came a weariness of spirit he could not fight. Easing himself to a sitting position, Frodo ran a hand over his aching eyes, strained from the bout of tears he had yielded to in the Lady Galadriel's gentle embrace.

Carefully placing his feet upon the constantly shifting floor Frodo stood, moving with the gentle rock and sway of the ship as it bore him further from his heart's dwelling. "Frodo, my lad," came a hoarse but cheery voice from the doorway, causing Frodo's head to swivel toward the sound.

Hobbling upon his cane, Bilbo cautiously shuffled into the room. Frodo's feet landed with a gentle thud upon the ornate flooring and he moved toward the elderly Hobbit. "Uncle Bilbo, you should be resting. Your arduous journey to the Grey Havens reduced strength you couldn't spare." Bilbo only smiled with fondness at his cousin, and accepted the arm offered him, purposefully ignoring the kind reproach.

Settling into a nearby chair, Bilbo relaxed in contentment, then reached out and gently smoothed a loving hand down Frodo's tear-stained cheek. "The parting was far more difficult for you than for me, Frodo." "Yes, Bilbo, it was." A sigh punctuated these words, "Yet, the pain is easier than it was, and in time, it may ebb entirely. At least, that is my hope and desire. Never to lose the memories, but the anguish associated with them."

A crinkled smile appeared at the very edges of Bilbo's bright eyes, "Frodo lad, remember this, when the memories threaten to overcome your soul, when your life seems darker than you could have possibly imagined, remember all that you did accomplish. Life in Middle Earth is no longer threatened by an overshadowing evil."

"Now the only concerns our Shire folk will experience are where to purchase their flour this season, what should be done about the neighbor's livestock which constantly invade private property, or where they should spend their holiday. There's no longer a threat looming on their horizon, Frodo. You are the one who made an accomplishment out of loss, who traded sorrow for joy where so many are concerned."

Frodo's eyes locked with Bilbo's. Two souls who had shared a potent and deadly burden now connected. Frodo's chin quivered slightly, and yet tears did not fall. Frodo had lost something entirely precious to his existence, yet the thought had finally penetrated. The losing was utterly painful at this very moment, yet when Sam finally returned to him, their reunion would be made all the sweeter by the impenetrable distance.

Frodo's warm grip clasped Bilbo's hand tightly, and he tugged the elder Hobbit tenderly to his feet. Determinedly swiping tears from his cheeks, Frodo smiled, hesitant, shimmering as if from a distance arising from the part of himself which had become lost for a brief time. "Thank you, Bilbo. You will never fully know how much I needed to hear those words, especially from you, dear Bilbo."

A wide grin spread like sunshine across Bilbo's ancient cheeks, and he tugged Frodo toward the door. "Well, Frodo lad, now that we've recovered the piece of you which was absent, there is something I would have you see." With his head cocked slightly in curiosity, Frodo's lips turned up in a vague semblance of a smile, and he followed Bilbo through the door, and toward the stairs which lead toward the upper deck.


	3. An Untouchable Storm

**The White Ship Sails**

Rating: K+ for angst and grief.

I wrote this series about 9 years ago, when _The Lord of the Rings_ consumed my life. But with _The Hobbit_ now on the horizon, I thought it would be nice to share my old stories again. My writing style has changed dramatically since then, but I won't change a word. I'd hate to lose the depth of compassion I felt when I wrote of my beloved hobbits all those years ago. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the series as much as I enjoyed once writing it.

_Chapter Three - An Untouchable Storm_

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><p>The stunned astonishment was instantaneous. While Frodo had slept peacefully below deck, a storm had arisen; the darkened clouds flashed and swirled in a frightened display of power, and the water rushed by at swift speeds. Yet, his amazement did not stem from the storm itself.<p>

The White Ship beneath his feet was untouched, completely, entirely, untouched by the force of the waves and wind. A soft circle of pure white surrounded the ship, rising past the storm's force, to the sight of clear sky the hue of sapphire far above.

With one hesitant foot placed in front of the other, Frodo emerged from the stairwell, cautiously tiptoeing to the very edge of the railing, unable to remove his sight from the glorious splendor displayed before his eyes. The water was thoroughly clear and calm for a space of several yards, utterly separating the passengers from the buffeting forces, as if an impenetrable wall had been drawn between the ship and outside world.

Frodo's eyes drank in the view, his jaw slightly limp, as Bilbo chuckled beside him._ Samwise, how you would have loved this sight._ A warmth spread throughout his soul, someday, Sam would indeed be viewing this very same phenomenon. "How," his voice stuttered, "is this possible. I've never seen anything . . . how can this be." Bilbo's voice held joy intermixed with awe, "I could never fully explain this occurrence, Frodo. Gandalf is the only one, other than Lord Elrond or Lady Galadriel, who has the knowledge of such things."

The name startled Frodo, he had quite forgotten his wizened friend was also aboard this ship. His agony had been so potent, he had lost sight and recollection of all others. The thought brought a twinge of regret to his heart. Turning away from the railing, Frodo took a step, only to be halted by a gentle grasp upon his shoulder. He whirled to face the features he had known so well throughout his years; twinkling eyes set under thick, bushy brows and a mouth whose smiles brought sunshine into any heart, surrounded with white hair and flowing silver beard.

"Gandalf!" Frodo's joy was so immediate he forgot himself and flung his arms about the wizard, clinging tightly to the one other person he had desired to never be parted. Gandalf eased the ardent Hobbit to a distance, then knelt to a more comfortable level, eyes even with Frodo's sparkling gaze. "Gandalf, how is it that we are in the midst of a horrific storm, and yet," pivoting toward the sea, "we are protected from the outcome and devastation. I don't understand."

Placing a hand between Frodo's shoulder blades, Gandalf guided the Hobbit until he was facing the raging waters of the sea. With a sigh, and a penetrating expression of contemplation, he spoke, "Frodo, what do you see?" A confused line awoke between Frodo's brows.

Gandalf smiled kindly, and stroked his beard with an idle finger. "At this moment, you are viewing a storm filled with might and strength enough to send our Elven vessel into the heart of the sea. And yet, our tiny craft is still afloat, protected from these rages." Frodo listened with rapt attention, his eyes never straying from Gandalf's solemn features. "Frodo, we are sailing from this world into one of an entirely different level of understanding. We can no longer be touched or harmed by the dangers which plague and persecute everyday life. We still feel the presence of such things, yet remain completely unaffected by them."

"It is a gift granted by Eru, to his children The Firstborn. One which is never totally comprehended, yet always fully appreciated." Frodo's gaze was once again drawn to the sea, the distant clash of lightening leaping repeatedly from cloud to cloud, at times directly into the frothing water.

"It cannot touch us," his voice, lowered in reverence, halted, eyes shone with the newfound knowledge of Eru's love toward his creation. Wrapping one arm about Frodo and the other encompassing Bilbo who had remained thoughtfully silent during the interlude, Gandalf answered with muted joy and gratitude, "No, the storms cannot touch us."


	4. Heart's Ease

**The White Ship Sails**

Rating: K+ for angst and grief.

I wrote this series about 9 years ago, when _The Lord of the Rings_ consumed my life. But with _The Hobbit_ now on the horizon, I thought it would be nice to share my old stories again. My writing style has changed dramatically since then, but I won't change a word. I'd hate to lose the depth of compassion I felt when I wrote of my beloved hobbits all those years ago. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the series as much as I enjoyed once writing it.

_Chapter Four - Heart's Ease_

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><p>Frodo's soul overflowed with a peace which touched every inch of his being. The agony had faded, the memories were strong, and he realized that if this gentle peace had come while he was still on shipboard, who great would be his comfort when he arrived in Valinor.<p>

Leaning his head back against the solid sides of the ship, he gazed from a portal, watching the storm slowly settling until the water barely rippled with the wind's force. Bilbo's comfortable form was snug beside him, head resting upon curled arms, and eyes firmly shut, his mouth twitching in tiny motions as if he were conversing with a loved one in his dreams.

Gandalf's weathered figure ducked through the doorway and into the room, pausing to bestow a kind smile upon Frodo and his companion, then motioning for Frodo to join him. Easing carefully away from Bilbo lest he accidentally disturb the sleeper, Frodo slid to his feet, and joined the figure waiting for him, grasping the extended hand and accompanied the ancient wizard to another corner of the cabin.

Settling down into a pile of embroidered cushions the exact shade of Shire greenery, Frodo relaxed and restrained a chuckle as Gandalf cautiously lowered himself into a high-backed chair. Even a wizard and one of the Valar felt the rock and sway of a ship at sea. Gandalf's gaze twinkled at Frodo, and immediately he wiped all mirth from his features save for his eyes which he knew revealed all to his dearest friend.

"Frodo, in a very short time now, you'll find yourself in Valinor, and yet it seems that already you have discovered some semblance of the peace you sought." Shrewd eyes pierced Frodo's soul, and a strong hand withdrew a pipe, lit it, and placed it between straight and even teeth, sending a puff of shimmery white cloud upward.

Frodo ran an idle hand through his flyaway curls, ordering his thoughts before speaking them aloud. Drawing a deep breath, Frodo nodded, "Gandalf, I don't truly understand it myself. You remember how I felt just a few days ago, as if the enemy had won and taken my life with him into a void."

"Now," he struggled for the words, searching to locate ones which would convey his meaning, "now, I can see life again, the joy I once had I thought was forever lost to me, and yet, I've found it again. Somehow, someway, this journey has reawakened something I believed to have been gone for the completion of my lifetime, a sense of happiness, peace, and above all contentment."

Gandalf rested a hand on Frodo's head, causing the Hobbit to gaze into gentle pools of wisdom and compassion. "Frodo, you have managed to find the comfort I myself never thought to witness you enjoying again. And for whatever reason you came by it, I am glad of it, dear Frodo."

Settling back once more, Gandalf exhaled a contemplative puff of smoke, "Honestly, Frodo, I would have been deeply concerned had you remained in that pool of misery you found yourself in for the first few days. Your melancholia was of the highest worry for myself and the Lady Galadriel."

At the mention of the White Lady's name, Frodo's eyes lit with fire and a grin surged to his lips. "Gandalf, she's the one who truly helped me recover. She understood, I don't know how, but she did. She knew my longing for home, for Sam, just for things I knew and remembered. And she helped me move beyond those desires to, I suppose the only description I could give would be, a comfort of mind. Thanks to her, and you of course, dear Gandalf, I found myself again."

Sending a loving gaze toward the slumbering form of Bilbo, Frodo's voice rang with tenderness, "Even Bilbo was concerned for me, I'm afraid. I never meant to give way to the pain, but that was really the only way to bring healing. To experience the anguish and move forward. And now, I can look ahead to a new life, and one that in time Sam will share with me once again!" The final words burst from Frodo's heart, and Gandalf laughed.

"Indeed, he will, Frodo, indeed he will."

The sudden musical shout, caused both companions to gaze toward the doorway where an elf appeared with a joyous smile forming across normally severe lips. "We have arrived! Valinor is visible from the railing, if you would prefer to join the company." With his words dutifully spoken, the elf vanished to view his heart's desire.

Frodo scrambled to his feet and was at Bilbo's side in an instant. Gently shaking a shoulder, Frodo urged the Hobbit awake, and whispered in his ear, "We've arrived, Uncle Bilbo. It is time."

A cheery grin touched Bilbo's features, and then he stood with Frodo's supporting arm braced against his back. "Well, lad, what say we see what all the fuss is about?" Frodo's smile was answer enough, and the two Hobbits joined Gandalf who had waited patiently near the door. The gentle cadence of feet upon wood faded as the companions swiftly hurried topside where a land of infinite tranquility and harmony awaited their sight.


End file.
